


The Diplomat (with a fancy title)

by madamerioulette



Series: The Hacker | The Gunslinger | The Sparrow [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Shibari, Throat Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14453385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerioulette/pseuds/madamerioulette
Summary: McCree lets them talk about how he has the worst job in Deadlock, they don’t have to know it isn’t.





	The Diplomat (with a fancy title)

McCree knows what the rest of Deadlock says about his job when they think he’s not listening. That being the boss’s second in command is nothing more than being a diplomat with a fancy title, that the boss just told everyone he’s some kind of prodigy when he’s really just fodder for their strange and dangerous allies. That being the liaison to a notorious anonymous worldwide hacker and the brother to a Yakuza Lord is the boss throwing McCree into shark infested waters.

Amusingly, given some nights McCree might take that analogy with pride the way his neck is decorated in pretty teeth marks.

McCree lets them talk because that’s all they’re good for and why they’re lackies and why he’s the diplomat with a fancy title. He lets them talk because it makes for good pillow talk. Sombra laughs, loud and unapologetic, calling his people morons between chuckles; Genji likes to pretend it doesn’t feed into his vanity, that very carefully molded look of beauty and danger. He lets them talk because it won’t be McCree who punishes them for it, and it’s more fun that way.

It isn’t like McCree loves his job; being in a gang is dirty work and being one away from the big man himself means he needs to stay on top of things more than most should something unfortunate happen. It’s just this one portion of it, the diplomat with a fancy title, that is almost like a breath of fresh air compared to everything else.

So what if McCree has to jump through hoops to get a hold of Sombra, not knowing if she’ll have new and important information or just a new dirty joke she just  _ has _ to share. So what if Sombra knows every little thing about everyone, it’s not like McCree has anything to hide - though he can’t speak for everyone on Deadlock.

So what if McCree is dealing directly with the Shimada Clan, Japan’s most influential and dangerous family; meetings with Hanzo are short and concise, freeing up his afternoon. So what if Genji knows how to kill a man fourteen different ways with just the leg of a chair, that’s useful information to have. And impressive.

And while it may be a lot to handle, what with Sombra being off the grid until it suits her fancy and Genji being so insatiable, a troublemaker, a Shimada, it’s never too much. It’s always just enough to keep McCree grounded, but not six feet or so under. It’s alway enough, after a rough day of cargo smuggling and police chasing, to find Genji already waiting for him in his hole in the wall motel room, lips to his without a care for the blood smeared across the corner of his mouth, that stain his teeth. It’s always enough, after hours upon hours that feel like days of sifting through Sombra’s lucrative bounty of information to find something just for him neatly packaged on his bed; it ranges from high end brand scotch to his favorite packed cigarillos straight from Mexico, and sometimes something for Genji that has the added bonus of being for McCree too.

So McCree lets them talk about how he has the worst job in Deadlock, they don’t have to know it isn’t.

They don’t have to know about Sombra’s domineering attitude in bed that has McCree hot under the collar, hot under  _ her _ with her legs on either side of his head as she wiggles her hips so tantalizing above him. She has a hand petting idly through his hair, working out the knots almost gently, a harsh comparison to the words she speaks out from between grinning purple lips. Sombra teases in good fun, is mean between feather light kisses against his beard, tugs on his hair just enough to make his eyes wet before scraping her long nails against his scalp soothingly, sets those same nails deep in his skin around his most sensitive areas, just on the cusp of being too much but Sombra knows his limits. She knows them without having told her, which makes this easy. It’s easy between them; he knows almost nothing about her and she knows everything about him, just the way they each prefer.

Sombra still won’t lower her hips and smother him, McCree tilts his head enough to bite at her thigh and she pulls his hair until he stops.

“Quit talking and sit on my face already,” he says with no bite in his voice and a kiss on the mark he’s left on her thigh.

“Oh, well when you ask so nicely.” Sombra snickers, but obliges; she’s a bit addicted to McCree’s talented little tongue.

And oh, does he make her sing rough, cut off moans mixed with drawn out swears, head tilted back as she rides his mouth. The fingers in his hair grip tight, almost too much, but it’s the telltale sign she won’t last very long under his ministrations. He rolls her clit against the flat of his tongue before sucking hard, revels in the way he can feel her thighs on either side shake, her constant mantra of “fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ” rising in volume, her hips thrusting with a little less finesse, less rhythm. He lays his tongue flat again, broad but quick licks to match her movements until he can feel her muscles spasm. McCree wraps his arms around her hips and holds her in place with ease as she cums on his mouth, smothers him just the way he likes it until she’s pulling at his hair to stop, over sensitive and soaked. He leaves her with a wet kiss before he unwraps his arms and lets her up, though she doesn’t go far, and he’ll continue with his little kisses against her shaking thighs until she catches her breath.

“Okay… okay,” she grins down at him wickedly, cheeks flushed and strands of hair matted to her forehead. She runs a hand through it to push her hair back and out of her face. “My turn to make you go crosseyed.”

They don’t have to know about how Genji is pudding in his hands, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. How pretty he looks, tied in soft green ropes and an already dazed look in his eyes, but not far enough gone that he doesn’t try to egg McCree on even from his disposition. He hasn’t touched him yet, save for the half hour it took him to tie the knots in their intricate little patterns across Genji’s skin. Shibari - that’s what the note in Sombra’s care package said, and that’s what Genji called it when McCree showed him what she sent. There’s nothing quite like the glitter in his eyes when Sombra sends him spoils like this.

Except maybe the look in his eyes right now as they follow McCree across the room, half lidded and eager, impatient and needy, a quiet call for the attention McCree will inevitably give him because he doesn’t have it in him to deny Genji most anything, especially not his attention.

In just his boxers, McCree finally walks up to where Genji is kneeling on a couple pillows on the floor and doesn’t have to wait long for him to surge forward with careful balance. With his hands tied behind his back, a knot looping his wrists to his ankles with about half a foot of slack between them, Genji isn’t as mobile as McCree is used to. It’s a new sensation to watch him move slowly, carefully, until one cheek is pressed lovingly against McCree’s hip, nosing at his half hard cock. He sits a hand at the base of Genji’s neck to keep him steady as he mouths at the fabric.

And even tied up the way he is, both decorative and purposeful, Genji still manages to boss McCree around - or at least try to, it’s hardly an order if he’s more than willing to do it.

“Get closer,” he says with fabric pinched between his teeth, pulling back to bring McCree closer to him. “Let me see your cock.”

The underwear is shucked and Genji’s mouth is there to chase away the chilly air before McCree can even get one leg out of a pant sleeve.

“You’ll fuck my throat like this, won’t you?” He asks, but he really isn’t, not with the way he looks up at McCree, mouthing at the base of his cock. “Come down my throat so I don’t even get a taste?”

He does, because he can’t deny Genji anything. And he thinks idly about all the different ways to get Genji off after he’s come hard and loud, both hands grabbing at his green hair to keep him flush against him, but he’s already reached euphoria by the time he pulls himself from his mouth. Genji’s so out of it he can’t keep himself up without McCree there to steady him. Pliant, and subconsciously needy as he pushes into McCree’s touch like a cat.

They don’t need to know the kind of terror Sombra and Genji are  _ together _ . A devil on either shoulder.

And it is a risk, being so unguarded around them. Sombra has connections McCree doesn’t even want to ask about, connections that could ruin him, send him to a prison where he’ll never see the light again, if only someone asked. He understands how dangerous Genji truly is, how well an actor he can be, how easy it would be for him to slit McCree’s throat in the middle of the night and make it so no one finds his body. Because at the end of the day Sombra is truly loyal to no one but herself with the world at her fingertips, and Genji is one of the deadliest things in Japan, an assassin who is only here to make sure his family’s investment is running smoothly.

But if that’s the risk of being a diplomat with a fancy title, then McCree will gladly make the sacrifice.

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up at 4am and felt compelled to jot this down.
> 
> As always, feel free to hit me up on madamerioulette@tumblr/writscrib ❤


End file.
